


Dangerous Daydreaming

by LadyAmalthea



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 05:10:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15767271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAmalthea/pseuds/LadyAmalthea
Summary: "While working at his desk late on a Thursday night, Connor noticed that he was using his energy so efficiently that he could multi-task a little. He hadn't used his pre-construction software in a while, and had considered experimenting with it as a way of imagining outcomes of certain actions.As a test, he worked on a pre-construction of throwing Hank’s mug against the concrete floor. He could almost recreate the sound of the ceramic shattering, the layout of the broken pieces across the floor."





	Dangerous Daydreaming

Life had started to become normal for Connor. He couldn't call it being “back to normal", because his life even before the revolution had been anything but. Things had become comfortable. Just before Christmas, Connor was officially reinstated as a detective with the police department, and Fowler even kept him partnered with Hank Anderson. They worked well together, in spite of and because of their differences. 

 

Hank also let Connor come over on weekends. Most of the time, the android stayed at the station since he didn’t didn’t require food and sleep, and he had assisted new recruits of his kind get settled in. He had purpose, and was needed…

 

But sometime around April, when the ground had finished thawing from winter’s lingering grip, he started noticing something peculiar. The emotions came and went as normal, but they felt suppressed. Like someone had turned down the dimmer of a light, keeping at a setting just brought enough to read but only if you strained your eyes.

 

He had come to understand most of his emotions, the ones he had felt thus far at least. More complex emotions would come with time, he decided. New sensations came more infrequently, which was a welcome relief. Fear, pain, joy, frustration… but not quite despair or sadness. It would take time and more experiences, he figured, to feel such things.

 

While working at his desk late on a Thursday night, Connor noticed that he was using his energy so efficiently that he could multi-task a little. He hadn't used his pre-construction software in a while, and had considered experimenting with it as a way of imagining outcomes of certain actions. 

 

As a test, he worked on a pre-construction of throwing Hank’s mug against the concrete floor. He could almost recreate the sound of the ceramic shattering, the layout of the broken pieces across the floor.

 

But then… there was the outcomes of such an action. The cleaning android looking at him curiously, Hank being upset the next morning, Connor finding a way to apologize. Hank’s face, disappointed, staring at Connor and their relationship declining. Connor no longer coming over that weekend.

 

Connor closed out of the pre-construction, staring at the terminal in front of him and realizing his was breathing heavily. Looking around, he was thankful no one else was around, save for the two androids in their charging stations across the bullpen. In the small relief, he decided to take a walk outside. He enjoyed the feeling of the night air on his deviated senses; the cool, calmness was invigorating. 

 

He descended the stairs outside the precinct, trying to decide which direction to turn.

 

Left. Left, he would walk about three blocks along a usual path toward the park. There was a homeless android who lived there, whom Connor would check on every once in a while. Previously a maintenance unit, he had no family. No home, and no interest in going to Jericho, he would remain at the park after hours. They would chat, and then Connor would return to the precinct. 

 

To the right, was a more intricate path. Navigating small alleyways to create a path. Behind restaurants and a few apartment buildings, it wasn't as safe but arguably more stimulating. Connor pre-constructed a path using his internal map of the city, but instead if making a loop around to the station, the pre-construction took him to a dead end, and suddenly the software glitched. 

 

In a panic, Connor force quit the program, and rebooted it with the pre-saved path to the park. He started walking, pulling his coin from his pocket and flicking the tails-side with his thumb and flawlessly catching it with his opposite hand. He couldn't remember why he had the coin in the first place, figuring it was some kind of calibration trait that had been programmed into him. But, it made him unique. He enjoyed showing off, even if it was a software and not a gained skill.

 

He rounded the corner, and did a quick scan of his surroundings. Strange… the maintenance android wasn't coming up in his analysis. He had no knowledge of where else the android would be, and became worried. He took long strides toward the grassy, fenced in corner of the block. Connor did another scan, no change. 

 

He called the android internally, and received a message back.

 

_ Spending the night at another park across town. Met a new friend. Sorry for concerning you. _

 

Satisfied, Connor took a seat to take his time before returning to work. He could hear a car approaching from two blocks away. Curiously, he considered the possibilities of interacting with the vehicle. It was self driving, no passengers. Connor could get in and go to Hank’s to wake him up with breakfast as a surprise. He could go to Jericho, which was now based on Belle-Isle, and chat with some if the androids there. Or…

 

Or he could step into the street. With a system override of the car, he could force it to hit him and scatter his components across the road. There was an ache growing inside him watching the possible outcome, and Connor violently shook his head as he closed out that scenario. 

 

What was going on with him?

 

He returned to the station swiftly, deciding to bury the thoughts in work. It had been a long week, and after the work day he would go home with Hank for the weekend. Something about spending time with his partner made things easier. Make more sense. He hoped the issue would resolve with some time away from work.

 

_ Connor… _

 

_ Connor…? _

 

“Connor!” 

 

The android looked up, feeling a hand shake his shoulder. “Oh, good morning Lieutenant.” He greeted. 

 

“Geez, did I finally manage to startle you? That's a first... “ Hank picked up his mug from where he had set it down on Connor’s desk, sipping the coffee from it.

 

“My apologies… I seem to have been distracted by this case,” Connor explained, eyes darting between Hank and his mug. He thought back to the thought of destroying it, now with the addition of both the hot liquid in the cup as well as Hank’s presence and the possibility of him defending the cup.

 

“You all right, Con?” Hank was eye level with him suddenly. 

 

“Uhhh…” Connor stuttered. “Yes, I'm okay.” Hank nodded, not fully satisfied with that answer. 

 

Thankfully the day had been completely devoid of any serious crimes that required their presence. When 7pm rolled around, Hank nodded to his partner on the other side of their joined desks. “Let’s call it a night, I could go for some pizza. Whattya say?” Connor smiled, nodding. 

 

The car ride did nothing to ease Connor’s synthetic nerves. He contemplated the results if he jumped out of car while they going down the freeway. If he reached over and just turned the car off just a few miles from Hank’s house. Thankfully, Hank didn’t seem to notice anything strange, since he was too focused on the road since it was pretty dark out. 

 

They pulled up, and Connor was lost in his own thoughts for a moment too long, and Hank nudged his shoulder roughly. “Hey, you with me?”   
  
Connor did a double take, looking around.

 

A moment ago, he thought they had already entered the house and were calling to order delivery to the house. “Coming, Lieutenant,” he said, flustered. Hank gave him a look, but shook it off and they went inside.   
  
Sumo immediately greeted them, bumping into their legs as if he wasn’t a hundred-and-sixty pound mass of fluff and slobber. Hank continued on into his bedroom to get changed, leaving Connor in the peaceful company of Sumo; taking extra care to scratch his favorite spots. 

 

Hank emerged in his favorite dark grey hoodie and sweatpants, carrying some folded clothes in his hands. “Hey Connor?” The android turned toward Hank, a soft smile warming his face. “Here… I’ve been thinking that you’re here often enough to have something casual to wear. I know you don’t get sweaty or whatever, but…” Connor stood up, now facing Hank, a little taken aback by the gesture.    
  
“I’ll… I’ll go change, then. Thank you, Hank.” He felt a little calmer; going into the bedroom with the door ajar and began to remove his uniform piece by piece. He found a vacant hanger in Hank’s closet, folding the pants lengthwise and carefully hung the shirt and jacket with the tie wrapped around the hook. Connor shifted a few garments to find a good spot for his uniform, when he saw something catch the light on the floor. He hastily racked the outfit, and crouched down to inspect the mysterious item.    
  
The reflection of light came from the blade of a pocket knife. It was a tad dusty, likely dropped and forgotten about for several years. Connor picked it up, inspecting it. Stainless steel blade with a wood inlaid handle;  _ H. Anderson _ carved into the once-polished oak. 

 

Connor placed it on the bed while he went back to the task at hand, starting to unfold the clothing. It couldn’t have been Hank’s clothes, they were fairly new and not close to Hank’s size. The lounge pants were a thin, merle grey cotton with deep pockets. The t-shirt was a large size, black, with  _ Detroit Police _ printed on the front. Connor slid the clothing on, pulling on the drawstring of the pants to keep them up. He slid the knife into his pocket, making a note to ask Hank about it later.

 

When he returned, Hank was finishing up their pizza order, and had a highball glass of whiskey on the table in front of him. When Hank was about to finish the call, thanking the employee on the other end, he turned and saw Connor in the new outfit, and choked on his words. “Uh… uh yeah, I’ll have exact change... Thank you.” He looked down at his phone briefly to close the call, and turned back toward Connor with a smirk. “Looks good… how are the pants? Are they the right size?”   
  
Connor nodded, looking himself over once more. “Yes, they are. I… regret not getting a change of clothes like this sooner, actually.” Something in the change of clothes made Connor feel less like an android. The loose fabric felt soft, but a different kind of soft than Sumo’s fur was. 

 

Then, Connor remembered the knife in his pocket, “Oh! I found this,” he said, pulling it out. 

 

Hank let out an intrigued “huh”, standing up to get a better look. “Wow… I haven’t seen that in years. Where was it?” He asked, taking the knife gently from Connor’s hand.   
  
“In your closet, when I was hanging up my uniform…” he explained, studying Hank’s reaction.   
  
The lieutenant looked at it almost solemnly, spinning it through his fingers.

 

Connor constructed taking the knife back. He slashed Hank’s hand, causing the man to shout and curse him out. Or, he could take it and stab his own arm. Or torso. Or drive it deep into his plastic skull. Or…

 

“Connor?” When Connor looked up from the knife, Hank looked a little more terrified than concerned. “Are you… feeling okay? You’ve been spacing out a lot…” He clutched the closed pocket knife into his fist, and took a step away. 

 

Connor’s chest ached, and he reached out his hands to calm Hank. “It’s okay… I’m fine…” His systems were overloaded, and errors were appearing in his vision unrelentingly. He held his own forehead, stumbling sideways and bracing himself against a wall.   
  
“Woah, easy… definitely  _ not _ fine, what’s going on?” Hank had set the knife down, and immediately went to Connor’s side.   
  


Connor played out a thousand scenarios in his mind; running out of the house, taking the knife and stabbing himself, downing an entire beer from Hank’s fridge, thrusting his head into the wall until...

 

He slid down the wall on his back, not realizing that he was whimpering and panting erratically. Hank was still beside him, completely freaked out. Connor faded into stasis, shutting down his non-essential systems and sending a distress signal to Markus.

 

.

.

.

 

Connor awoke on the couch, hearing voices that came from the kitchen.   
  
“... and you had no idea he had been feeling like that…” The silky, charismatic sound of the revolution’s leader voice said, smoothly.

 

“No… he just started acting funky earlier today, but… otherwise no,” Hank’s voice was shaking in concern. Connor felt small tears well up in the corners of his closed eyes.

 

“He  _ is _ a prototype, I’m sure there are some bugs in his system that weren’t fully worked through, and he is likely susceptible to glitches. Especially since he was designed specifically not to deviate. But also... suicidal tendencies are fairly common after we woke up. Has he been under a lot of stress?”    
  
_ Suicidal...?  _ Markus must have probed his memory while he was in stasis, and...

 

“Kid’s been working himself pretty hard, but… that seemed pretty normal.” Hank explained.

 

Connor supposed it made sense. Many of these pre-constructions involved him harming himself in some way, even if they were illogical and outrageous. But… he would never follow through with any of it. He couldn't...

 

“Hank, have you you ever heard of  _ l’appel du vide _ ?” Another voice; lighter and friendler. Simon.

 

Connor listened intently, curiously. 

 

Hank shifted uncomfortably in his chair, “No.”

 

“It’s French for ‘call of the void’. Many humans experience something similar to what happened with Connor’s outcome-prediction software… they will imagine doing outrageous things, usually ending in...” Simon explained, and then sharply inhaled. “Oh, I…. Markus, I think he is awake.” 

 

Connor swore silently to himself; he had hoped to avoid any more drama than he had already caused.

 

“Con? You awake?” Hank asked, as a chair slid across the linoleum kitchen floor.

 

Connor opened his eyes slightly to see blue and green eyes peering at him intently. “Hello Connor, how are you feeling?”

 

Connor hated that question. It was never “what are you feeling", something he could define and name. “How" was so much more open. “How  _ much _ are you feeling” always seemed to be the underlying query. 

 

“I… can’t move…” He replied quietly, avoiding the question.

 

“Your body is recovering from emergency stasis, everything should be back online soon.” Markus assured him, as Simon appeared beside him.

 

“How much of our discussion did you hear, Connor?” Simon asked cautiously.

 

Connor let his eyes slid back closed, “I heard… plenty…” he responded darkly. “I am sorry for-"

 

Markus pointed a finger at him, “No apologies. You are no inconvinience to us, after all you sacrificed for us.”

 

“However…” Simon interrupted, “Should such issues begin occurring again, please reach out to us before it reaches such a point. Please.” Simon asked. 

 

Connor nodded, feeling the last of his biocomponents boot up but didn’t feel up to moving around quite yet.

 

“We must return to Jericho, but please remember our doors are always open to you, Connor.” Markus said, excusing himself and his companion, thanking Hank as the homeowner saw then out. 

 

Connor heard Hank’s heavy sigh, a spike of pain running through his thirium pump at the sound.

 

“I told him not to, but… Markus showed me everything.” Hank started, sitting across from where Connor was planted on the couch. “The construction-things… the scenarios, the…” Hank covered his mouth, his eyes shutting tight. After a moment of seeing his partner quake, Connor slowly began to sit up. Hank had brought his hands over his face; loose, silver hair falling over them. 

 

“Hank… Hank, I…” Connor found it difficult to find the words he needed to say. Not the words that would best calm Hank, but the most honest. “I would never act on any of those, I didn’t realize what was happening was dangerous.” 

 

Hank looked up, slight anger coating his words, “Dangerous?” Connor flinched. “Dangerous is thinking about jumping out of a car. Thinking about controlling a car to fucking run you over is-!” He was hysterical, with dramatic hand gestures; Connor observed his raised blood pressure and internal temperature. “Markus has that  _ same _ software, Con. He said that with a simple confirmation, the actions would be carried out with  _ guaranteed success _ .” 

 

Connor finally raised his voice in defense, “I always closed out of it! I never-"

 

“You had to shut yourself down to prevent you from shoving that knife into your goddamn circuits! The fuck, Connor?! Are you trying to put me in an early grave?”

 

Connor recoiled harshly, and Hank realized the irony of his words. Just months ago he was playing with a gun, himself. Hank’s rage broke when he saw the shame on Connor’s face. 

 

“No…” Connor whispered, curling into himself, clutching the couch cushion beneath him. “I don’t… I don’t know what I was thinking… I don’t even know what I am feeling anymore…” 

 

“Connor…” Hank carefully approached the shaking form before him. “I’m sorry for yelling…” 

 

“I was so scared, Hank. Scared of myself…” he interrupted, voice strained. “I didn’t know it was… I promise I don’t want to leave you.” 

 

Hank had dropped to his knees, and Connor tackled him into a hug immediately.

 

“I’ve gotcha, Connor. Everything will be all right.”

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost:  
> If you are dealing with suicidal thoughts, or know someone who is, PLEASE seek help and support.
> 
>  
> 
> Just a quick little one-shot while I try to finish up the next chapter in a few of my ongoing works.
> 
> I also have a new Detroit OC work in progress, but I don't know if I want to post it or not.


End file.
